Stars and Stripes Forever
by Proud Olympian
Summary: America gets sick, leaving the fifty states (his children) to take care of him. He won't be able to make it to the world meeting being held in DC, so the States decide they'll send one of them to take his place. Two small problems here: there's a big storm brewing, and the United States are America's best-kept secret. As far as the rest of the world knows, they don't exist.
1. Chapter 1

_What difference if I hail from North or South  
Or from the East or West?  
My heart is filled with love for all of these  
I only know I swell with pride  
And deep within my breast  
I thrill to see Old Glory paint the breeze_

_-This Is My Country_

* * *

"Alaska! Hawaii! Get down here before we start breakfast without you!"

The loud shout was barely audible over the tumult of other voices in the crowded dining room, but the two at the top of the stairs heard it anyway. There was the rapid sound of pattering footsteps, which grew steadily louder as the two pairs of feet got closer, and then two small children came tumbling into the room. There was a girl and a boy, the girl wearing a navy blue coat over her shirt and jeans while the boy wore khaki pants and a brightly patterned floral shirt. They both had white-blonde hair, though it looked more natural for the girl. The boy was incredibly tan, and his hair had been bleached by the sun. Both beamed up at their older sister with innocent smiles and wide blue eyes.

Virginia looked back at them with an unimpressed expression, her arms crossed.

"We were sock racing," the boy, Hawaii, told her.

"Yes," the girl, Alaska, agreed.

Virginia huffed and shooed them off to their seats, though she smiled when they weren't looking. The eldest of the thirteen original colonies glanced around the dining room. "All right, is everyone here?" she called.

A chorus of replies echoed back from around the massive table. Fifty-one places had been set out around the platters topped high with food, pancakes and eggs and waffles and an unhealthy amount of bacon. Twenty-five plates went down either side, and there was a single plate at the head of the table, back against the far wall. Alaska and Hawaii sat far down on the other end. Two long benches ran down both sides of the table.

Fifty children of varying ages sat on the benches, talking and laughing and arguing and shouting. They sat in order of oldest to youngest by statehood, the oldest at the end closest to the chair facing down at all of them. Virginia walked back down the length of the table and took the seat to the right of the head; Delaware took the seat to the left. While Delaware was technically the first state to join the Union, Virginia had been the first personification their father had found. Also, Virginia tended to take more of a leadership role, simply because she was the most level-headed.

Pennsylvania sat next to Delaware; New Jersey sat next to Virginia; Georgia sat next to Pennsylvania; Connecticut sat next to New Jersey. Conversations were flying back and forth, the group cheerful, loud, boisterous, and more than a bit argumentative.

"Can we eat now, or what?" Idaho shouted over the noise, spearing a couple of hash browns on her fork.

Delaware, ever-organized and a bit of a perfectionist, shook her head. She was wearing a pair of overalls and a white shirt underneath, and bore a rather striking resemblance to Sweden. "Not until Father comes downstairs."

Maine was walking around the table, still in her pajamas, pouring water for anyone who asked for it. She waved her free hand dismissively. "Nah, I was up late last night 'cause I was thirsty," she informed them. "Heard his car drive in. He kinda stumbled off to his room with a big stack of files."

North and South Carolina frowned in unison. Twin girls, they often did everything from speaking to eating to working in tandem. "Dad needs to _chill_," they stated. Their father, while he often had his head in the clouds, tended to run himself into the ground when it came to matters concerning the country.

New York and Massachusetts stopped in the middle of their argument to join the conversation. Massachusetts looked a good bit like England, between his eyes and thick eyebrows, but he was tan and his hair was more that like that of his father's. New York had his father's eyes, but he could easily be mistaken for the Netherlands at a glance. The two argued over everything and anything, often over sports, and for some bizarre reason they always chose to sit next to each other during family functions.

"Pops is always like this," New York shrugged, accent an odd blend of the stereotypical "New Yorker" and a mash of all the other dialects scattered across his state. "I was up late too, y'know, generally am. He comes home late all the time, at least when he's here."

"I hate to agree with _you_-" Massachusetts shot his brother a disdainful look. "-but you're right. Hell, Pa can't tell the Dakota twins apart half the time anymore."

"That's a bad thing," North Dakota said bluntly. "I'm a girl."

"_I'm _a boy," South Dakota added on. "And-"

"-you don't look anything alike, we know," Minnesota finished for them.

North and South Dakota were the other set of twins in the family, younger than the Carolinas and a lot more troublesome. They bickered constantly, but had amassed a large amount of prank tactics over the years. North Dakota kept her hair in two long braids, and South Dakota's hair was perpetually windswept.

The older states looked at the empty chair while the rest chattered away aimlessly, and then Virginia finally shrugged. "Might as well let him sleep," she sighed, taking her own seat. "Make sure we save him some leftovers, got it?"

It was rather obvious that the children weren't _normal _children. Even at a glance, there was something _off _abut one of them alone, and when all fifty were gathered together it was just bizarre. They weren't human, they were the United States. It was a complicated family tree; the original thirteen colonies were siblings, but England had founded them and they united to _become _America, thus making America both their father (he had raised the personifications, and he appeared physically older by a couple years) and their son, and possibly their brother, depending on how one looked at it.

England was their grandfather, father, and uncle. The States all called one another brother and sister, but Maine had once been a part of Massachusetts; Vermont had once been a part of New Hampshire; all territory west of Mississippi had once been Louisiana. They had never been born, either; their father had found them and raised them and that was that. They had lived in Virginia, Pennsylvania, Georgia, California (though only briefly, as it started getting crowded), and finally invested twenty years into building a massive house nestled in the woodlands of Vermont.

They had been through good times and bad, and though occasionally they got on each others' nerves, they were still family.

"You're lucky you weren't born with a lisp, Ippi."

"Shut _up_, Kansas!"

"Hey- it's _Arkansas_, dangit! I'm not some flat, boring old piece of nowhere!"

"Are you implying something about _my _state?"

"Tornadoes, man."

All right, more than occasionally.

Their father was at work quite a bit of the time. They didn't mind, normally; they were all quite capable of taking care of themselves unsupervised with only minimal property damage. There were two reasons for their house being in Vermont, having previously lived out west: it was a shorter distance to DC and there were less people around to question fifty children who didn't age.

It was also rare for all fifty of them to be in the house at the same time. Sometimes they would go off to boarding school in one place or another – they were semi-immortal personified states, it wasn't like they had anything better to do – and a lot of times they would be traveling to meet with their respective politicians to make sure they didn't screw anything up. A few of them had jobs in nearby towns; the funding from the government only went so far, after all.

Breakfast came and went without a hitch, performed with the smoothness of a routine that had been practiced for several decades. The food was almost entirely gone, so the Carolinas went to add on to the ever-growing grocery list tacked onto one of the bulletin boards in the front hall. The States stacked up their plates and cups (one of the stacks overbalanced, leaving Wyoming dazed but unharmed) and carted everything to the kitchen. The dishwashers were out of order, as yesterday the Dakota twins had done an experiment involving cheese balls and a rubber duck, but they managed quite well simply due to their numbers.

Massachusetts left for Boston around eleven o'clock that morning, not long after breakfast was over, to get to a meeting with his state governor scheduled for that afternoon. Ohio, Utah, and Michigan all had part-time jobs in three separate towns, and since they weren't physically old enough to get a driver's license, Maryland drove them (they stopped to come back four separate times, having forgotten one important thing or another).

Ohio looked to be about fifteen. The States' "ages" ranged from eighteen to five, though most of them had been alive for at least a hundred years. Even Alaska, officially fifty-seven, had vague memories of Russian colonization, putting her true age on par with the Thirteen. Ambiguous ages aside, they still managed to run their states efficiently – it wasn't as hard as it seemed. They checked on their geographical locations every now and again, they kept in touch with their governors and senators and other politicians, managed the house, and took care of their siblings when they were sick or hurt. And argued. Oh, they argued _a lot_.

Taking care of their siblings often extended into taking care of their father, who (unfortunately) was one of the worst patients ever. When lunchtime came and went with the same ease as breakfast, and New Hampshire left for a business meeting, North and South Carolina were sent to fetch America. At this point, there were three possibilities: he had left early in the morning and forgot to tell anyone or leave a note, he was still asleep, or he was still working.

The house the States lived in was very large. It had enough space that it could fit them all in a few times over along with some guests, though actual bedrooms were limited to fifty-one plus a few guest rooms. The fourth floor was entirely bedrooms, the rooms belonging to the Thirteen were scattered across the third floor, and their father had one room on the second. There were bathrooms (the lines for the showers in the morning were comical), the kitchen, a couple of lounge rooms, but everything else was dedicated to recreation.

Out back in the yard was a swimming pool, garden, greenhouse, and lots of grass to run around in. The halls, all paneled from ceiling to floor in dark wood, held mementos from the past – flags and photos, for the most part, but there were drawings and decorations here and there. One photo in the front hall showed them all waving their state flags. Photos on the mantle of the fireplace were of the States in pairs and threes and fours, and here and there one could find photos of the US colonies (they preferred to stay on their homeland, which America was content to allow). There were individual portraits from times before photographs had been invented.

North Carolina smiled and nudged her sister as they passed their personal favorite, a large painting of the Thirteen and America. They were all a few years younger than they were now, and America was grinning proudly. The date in the corner read "July 8, 1776".

The thing with the States was that they were separate from America. Their father represented the people as a whole, but they were their own thoughts and ideas and ideals.

America was on good terms with England – the States, not so much. Massachusetts especially, though Rhode Island had somehow convinced the Thirteen to take "Kirkland-Jones" as a surname for their human personas.

America was on good terms with Japan – Hawaii still had nightmares about Pearl Harbor.

America was _not _on good terms with Russia – the States knew if they ever happened to encounter Ivan Braginsky, they should be wary, but _only _wary. Maine (who had majored in psychology) knew very well that mental illness did not equal evil, Virginia (who had majored in history twice over) pitied the personification after everything he had been through, and they _all _knew that the thoughts of a Nation did not equal the actions of the government controlling them.

Another things they could all agree on completely was the need to be kept secret from other Nations. The older States could probably fend for themselves, by now, but they worried that because others were so young (and as far as they knew, the only case of personified states and provinces) they could be kidnapped or hurt and used as leverage against the rest of the family. Thus, they stayed within the limits of their country, quite safe and quite hidden from the rest of the world.

(And if they occasionally tagged along, incognito, with their father as one of his aides at the World Meetings, that was neither here nor there.)

North Carolina looked briefly over at her southern twin, the two unsure whether or not they should be worried or relieved at the lack of noise coming through the wooden barrier separating them and their father. After a few moments, South Carolina shrugged and opened the door.

* * *

**Okay, here's a rewrite of my story _Stars and Stripes_, which revolves around America, his fifty states, and some other Nations who made cameo appearances. I'm rewriting it simply because I feel like the old story has one too many plotholes, and was a bit rushed in its completion, so this one will be more thought out and I'll be taking some time between chapter updates. _Stars and Stripes _is still up, if you'd like to read it.**


	2. Chapter 2

It was an unspoken agreement that the United States and America didn't go poking about in others' rooms. When America needed their attention or their help with something, he (generally) remembered to knock. The basement belonged to their father and was off-limits; his bedroom they were allowed to go in if he was there. New York's bedroom was plastered with Broadway posters and sports memorabilia and the latest in technology. New Hampshire's door was booby-trapped with fireworks, and he would only disable them after he woke up for the day. Alaska's room was painted gray, and there was a whole wall dedicated to sunflowers, wolf plushes, and _matryoshka_ dolls. Rooms varied from State to State, depending on their interests, and while there were _certain _personified Nations who assumed America's bedroom would be utterly trashed and covered from ceiling to floor with red-white-blue _everything_, his children knew better.

"Oh, _Father_..." South Dakota sighed.

Their rooms were mostly the same size, though their father's was slightly bigger than the States. A couple of the Thirteen had larger rooms than their siblings because they had gotten first pick. The walls of the room were painted dark blue while the ceiling was white, and a single flag hung over the bed. It covered a safe in the wall for some inexplicable reason (they never had company, government documents often scattered the dining table during meals, it wasn't like they needed to be kept secret) and had been switched out every time the number of stars changed. It was normally rather tidy. There were photos hanging on one wall, of America and the States and the colonies. Two maps (updated whenever borders changed) hung on the wall opposite the photos.

As the room was _now_, there were takeout containers which had been tossed in the vague direction of the trash can, had missed, and were currently lying on the floor. Papers were scattered across their father's desk, and the two maps on the wall – one was a world map and the other a map of the USA – were covered in tacks and photos and pieces of string along with hastily scribbled notes ("new NASA program, talk w/ commie" and "order beetle carcasses 4 summit meeting" to name a couple), creating a myriad of colorful lines in in a complicated web that made no sense to either Carolina.

A stack of books teetered dangerously next to the desk chair. A dim computer screen showed late-night correspondence with government officials over the current state of the economy, and in the midst of the trashed room, America was curled up on his side on the bed. He hadn't remembered to get under the covers, but his shoes had been kicked off between the desk chair and the bed. He huddled underneath his aviators jacket, brow creased slightly in his sleep.

"What time did Maine say he got home?" North Carolina asked, speaking softly as so not to wake America.

South Carolina shook her head, picking her way around the trash on the floor to peel back the curtains covering the window. America always had to see the sky, wherever he was. "She didn't, just that it was late," she replied in a whisper. "What time do those emails read?"

North Carolina stepped gingerly around the containers on the floor, pausing to adjust the stack of books about to topple over, and jiggled the laptop mouse while peering closely at the screen. "...Three," she said after a long pause. "AM. Damn time zones."

South Carolina made a face. "Of course he was up until three. Come on, help me take his shirt off."

"I'm not helping you change Pa into pajamas. That's be creepy." North Carolina promptly had a pen chucked at her, though it bounced harmlessly off the wall. "Chill, chill, I was _joking_...!"

They grabbed an old t-shirt from the bureau stuffed in a corner and tossed the aviators jacket over the back of the desk chair. America curled further in on himself at the sudden exposure to cool air. North Carolina paused then, however, and her twin hovered next to her, t-shirt in her hands. "...Hello? Anyone home?"

"Does he look flushed to you?" South Carolina murmured, tilting her head to one side.

North Carolina frowned. "Uh... maybe?"

"That's not helpful."

"It's dark in here."

"Then turn the light on!"

The argument was conducted entirely in whispers, and while the lights remained off, the northern twin pressed the back of her hand to America's forehead. Her frown deepened. "Carol, can you get a thermometer? He's burning up..."

South Carolina tossed the t-shirt off to one side and pressed her own hand against America's face to feel his temperature. It wasn't that she didn't trust her sister's judgment, it was just that America didn't _get _sick.

At all.

Ever.

The last time the two sisters could remember America getting sick, _really _sick, was sometime during the Great Depression and they would be able to feel it if anything like that was looming. If something was bad enough to affect America, then it would affect the States as well.

"Right," she said briskly. "Thermometer. There's one in the bathroom down the hall, right?"

Typical of herself, the State was out the door before she could receive a reply. North Carolina tutted softly and went to put America's shoes by the door. Her sister was back in a flash, thermometer in hand, and the two set about waking their father up.

"Pa," North Carolina said at a normal volume, poking their father's shoulder. No response. "Pa, c'mon."

"Mmm- m'wake," he slurred out, squeezing his eyes shut and curling in further on himself, trying to bury his face in the pillow. The States shared an exasperated glance.

"Pa, wake up," South Carolina prodded.

Mumbling incoherently, bleary blue eyes cracked open and squinted into the sudden light. "Hn?" And a moment later he shot bolt upright, pushing at the covers with shaking hands. "Wh- did- _shit_, Gin, when's the meeting- am I late-?"

"Pa!" North Carolina's shout effectively stopped his rambling in its tracks. His jaw snapped shut with an audible _click_. "Virginia isn't here right now, it's just me and Caroline. North Carolina and South Carolina."

"She's not- Oh! Oh. Hi, girls."

"Hi, Pa." South Carolina rolled her eyes. "Mind staying still for a moment? We gotta check your temperature."

America, current world superpower and self-proclaimed Hero™, shrank backwards away from the small plastic thermometer as if it was the most terrifying thing on the planet. "M'fine," he said quickly, reply so rapidly delivered the two suspected it was probably instinct by now to deny being in trouble in any way.

"You're shivering," North Carolina said bluntly, poking America's forehead, "and your face is flushed, and you feel warm to us. If it'd make you happier we could call in the gang and they could hold you down."

Their father sighed. "Virginia, I-"

The southern Carolina took advantage of America's protest to stick the thermometer into his open mouth, and they both decided to ignore the fact that he couldn't tell which of the States were standing in front of him despite having been told less than a minute ago. The glare he leveled at the two was mutinous, though they knew he didn't mean anything by it. None of the States liked to be taken care of when they were sick; they preferred to either struggle through it and get done what needed to get done or crawl off to their rooms and take care of themselves without any help.

Strong sense of pride and nationalism, or something like that.

At the small _beep-beep _signaling that the device had finished, South Carolina took the thermometer from America's mouth. Both twins frowned at the readings.

"See?" Their father mumbled, already curling back up and burrowing under the covers until all they could see of him was the top of his head. "'m _fine_. Now shush, I was sleeping..."

The little screen was blinking out a reading of 102 degrees.

North Carolina grabbed South Carolina and tugged her over to the other side of the room. A couple of chip bags crinkled when they stepped on them. "I'm going to go get Virginia and the rest of the Thirteen," she said under her breath.

"What about the others?"

"They'll worry, but we can't just _not _tell them..."

The younger states had what the older states deemed an endearing habit, most of them worrying incessantly over their older brothers and sisters as well as their father. New York and Louisiana were the primary targets to be fussed over, the two both having been hit by devastating storms in the past decade, New York with Superstorm Sandy and Louisiana with Hurricane Katrina. The former was in the process of weaning his way off crutches while the latter was still in a wheelchair, but ever optimistic he'd be walking again soon.

"Music room in five?"

"Sounds good."

* * *

Virginia managed most of the house while their father was away on business, though authority for decisions was generally delegated to the Thirteen (and then to all fifty States for any time they voted). It wasn't because she was oldest – Delaware had that honor, as well as the title of "The First State" – nor was it because she was the smartest or the strongest or anything else. She _was _the most organized and the most level-headed, and least likely to start an argument over something trivial (unless it was West Virginia). Today, not all of the Thirteen were present, but Virginia was, and in her haste to find her sister South Carolina nearly tripped over Alaska and Hawaii, sitting quietly on the bottom stair.

"Hi, South C!" Hawaii was bright and cheerful, and as he still struggled a bit with longer words, he abbreviated "Carolina" to just its first letter.

"Hey, you two!" South Carolina said with a smile. "How's it going?"

"I'm explaining to Aria about the flowers," Hawaii said proudly. "Yellow hibisicusises."

"Hibiscuses," Alaska corrected. She had a high-pitched, quiet voice, and spoke with a touch of a Russian accent behind her words.

"That's what I said!"

South Carolina smiled. Alaska shrugged and tapped her feet together. "They sound pretty," she said quietly, and turned her wide violet eyes onto her older sibling. "I can get some, yes? Next to my sunflowers?"

"I think we can work something out," South Carolina agreed.

"Here, I have some! I have pictures and real flowers, I can show you!" Hawaii grabbed his sister by the hand and started pulling her along, chattering excitedly with a sunny smile. Alaska was more reserved, and the wintery state was difficult to read even for their father and the rest of her siblings, but she seemed happy too.

South Carolina shook her head fondly and continued looking for Virginia. Alaska wasn't precisely stable, taking after Russia though she had never met the man, and they suspected some of it had to do with how Russian traders had rapidly drained away her resources. She was fiercely protective of Hawaii, though, the boy being the only State younger than her. Hawaii, forever cheerful, was good for her.

The State continued searching through the house, who was in the middle of an argument with Georgia against Alabama. That, like most odd things in the household, was completely normal – Georgia worried incessantly over Alabama, and Virginia worried over all of them.

"I'm fine, I'm telling you-"

"I've been with you the whole _day_!" Georgia countered. "You- oh, hey there Caroline- you haven't-"

But in the brief moment of distraction when the two States spared their sister a brief glance, Alabama had darted off around the corner. Georgia sent a pleading look up at the ceiling as if begging for divine patience.

Virginia offered up a rather exhausted smile, though it was genuine. "Hey, there, little sister. You seen Vermont around? There's reports of a storm coming in, and I want to check up on him."

The States, like all Nations when it came to their land, had a bit of a sixth sense about impending disasters, natural or otherwise. If they were going to get hammered by a rainstorm – or heaven forbid, a _hurricane_, just because they didn't normally get them so far north didn't mean it couldn't happen – Vermont would definitely know. The other New England States would probably have some idea as well.

"Nah, haven't seen him, but come on. Music room, Thirteen's Congress."

Georgia frowned, and while she didn't say anything out loud she clearly wanted to know what the reason for the gathering was. "I'll go fetch everyone."

She turned and hurried off. Virginia leaned up against the wall, raising an eyebrow. "What's up?"

"Dad's sick," South Carolina sighed, trying not to attract the attention of Alaska and Hawaii. They had returned to their seat on the bottom step, Hawaii holding a big encyclopedia in his lap. It was comically huge compared to him. He was regaling his sister with pictures of the flowers and tales of the tropical islands he was so connected to. Both were smiling. "Found him asleep on his bed under his jacket. He's insisting that he's fine, you know Pa, but he also thought we were both _you_, so I'm a bit inclined not to believe him."

Virginia snorted. "Pa is an idiot," she muttered, and looked out the window. The grass was rippling in the heavy wind, sky growing darker by the minute, trees swaying back and forth as they were buffeted around. "There's nothing wrong with the land. We'd know. Can Nations get sick from normal things?"

"We can get injured," South Carolina pointed out. "I mean, most of us have died at one point or another." Virginia winced, and South Carolina's casual mention of the topic didn't match her expression. "Honestly, I don't know. The only person we could ask would be Pa, and that's out of the question at the moment."

"Well, hopefully it's nothing serious," Virginia sighed, tugging at a lock of her hair. "I'll go help Georgia pull everyone together."

"Sounds like a plan."

Virginia pushed off the wall and began walking back down the hallway; South Carolina turned and walked in the opposite direction. "Just hope this storm doesn't hit too hard..."

* * *

**And here's chapter two! Hope everyone enjoyed.**


End file.
